


Stille Nacht

by MercuryGray



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: Candles, Christmas Caroling, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Home for Christmas, Trying to Be a Hallmark Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryGray/pseuds/MercuryGray
Summary: It's been two years since the end of the war, and life is starting to return to whatever normal passes for these days. A letter from an old friend prompts Henry to go to Boston for Christmas, where there may be a surprise present waiting for him.





	Stille Nacht

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fericita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fericita/gifts).



It was unusual for a train to be this late.

But then, it was highly unusual for such a snowfall so early in the season, and when there is a foot of snow on every mile of track from the Berkshires to Boston, certain allowances have to be made, including four hour train delays. It could have been far worse; Henry Hopkins sat in his drafty train car and thanked heaven that it was only four hours and not four days, else he should have missed Christmas entirely. As it was, he would be only late to Christmas Eve, which was permissible, he thought. 

It would be a welcome change, to be in Boston for the holidays. He had made the mistake of writing to Jed about his plans for the winter break between classes - a fireside and a good book and not much else - and the reply that had come back had almost been a marching order:  _ Come to Boston or else. _ "Mary will not hear of your spending Christmas like a monk in a cloister, and begs me to remind you that you have not yet met Elias, who desires a new shoulder to spit up on, being exhausted of mine and his mother's. We will not be a large party, so you may be called upon to perform grace, but apart from that," Jed had written, in his blithe, unconcerned manner, "your primary duties will be the occupation of a hearthside chair, the consumption of Christmas pudding and port, one or two games of chess, and perhaps the entertainment of a very small child, if it can be fit in amidst your other onerous tasks."

It was a cozy picture - and far preferable to two weeks spent alone in his lodgings with only the cat for company. Henry knew he would not be the only 'stray' at the Foster family Christmas table - Jed had already written of a visiting professor from Germany, and there were sure to be more.

He collected his case from the rack above as the train slowly screeched into the station, pistons and brakes hissing in the fog-filled twilight of the shed. The platform was a dizzying spectacle of humanity, porters and teamsters bustling to and fro around families trying to collect cases, wives waving their hellos and goodbyes, and a few black-coated businessman, trying to make a dash for the door. Henry made a beeline for the waiting room, the final figure of Dr. Jed Foster finally appearing near the doors, a jewel-blue scarf peeking out from his overcoat.

"Were you going to keep me waiting all night?" Jed asked, smiling irrepressibly.

"I thought about it," Henry replied, his own smile just as free and easy. The two men shook hands and then embraced, laughing. 

"Well, shall we go? I'm sure dinner's a lost cause, but we may yet make it home for the midnight service at church, if you're up for it." Henry nodded, picking up his case again and following Jed towards the station's exit and a nearby line of waiting black cabs, horses pawing at the pavement while their drivers sniffled in the cold. 

Installing themselves in the nearest vehicle and letting the driver tap his horses away to Beacon Hill, Henry settled himself into what he hoped would be the last leg of his journey and took a good look at Jed. Married life and peacetime, it seemed, had changed him - there was a touch more gray around his hair, and in his beard, which was shorter than Henry remembered it at Mansion House. Was the war really two years ago now? It seemed so much less remote than that. The scarf was obviously new, and not in a color he thought Jed himself would have picked. And there was a certain...easiness in him now, a lightening of the shoulders and the spine that spoke of a willing partner to the day's cares. "Fatherhood suits you," he ventured.

His friend looked surprised to be found so. "Does it? I've been reliably informed it won't last - in a few months the boy will forget how to sleep ten hours at a stretch and then, my friend, I think I shall be very sorry I ever clapped eyes on his mother."

"But you like it, so far?"

Jed considered a minute, his thoughtful gaze turning, once more, to a grin. "He is...the tiniest thing, Henry. I know exactly what went into him, how he works and moves, and yet - every time I look at him I marvel."

And Henry only smiled. 

It was not a long way to Jed and Mary's house - a flourishing practice and plenty of teaching work had left the Fosters amply supplied where their choice of lodging was concerned, and Beacon Hill was handy for the Common and the General Hospital, as well as the houses of the Boston Brahmins who formed the bulk of Jed's private practice. There was a wreath upon the door of the Foster demesne, and in the window, one of the newfangled Christmas trees pressed its arms into the glass, the mirrored glass of its ornaments glimmering faintly in the light from the streetlamp.

"They may have already gone," Jed offered, turning his key in the lock and letting the two of them inside. "What ho, the house!"

"We're in the parlor, dear." Henry smiled at the familiar voice, hanging up his hat, at least, and trying his best to leave most of the snow on his shoes at the door as Jed slid the pocket doors back and let Henry into the parlor.

It might have been a scene from a Christmas card - Jed in the role of Joseph, admitting one tired and slightly amazed shepherd into the stable to marvel at the newborn King, cooing in his mother's arms as a visiting shepherdess looked on - another stray caught in for Christmas, no doubt. The room was dim, the only light a few oil tablelamps, at Mary's elbow and on the desk, catching the spangled garland on the tree and sending flashes of light around the room. Mary looked up, smiling at Jed's entrance, and the attendant friend did, too, and Henry's heart skipped a beat, recognizing the face as someone who has seen a long-loved ghost.

"Miss Green!"

For so it was - the same bright eyes and slim smile, the same dark hair and trim waist that had invaded upon his thoughts so at Mansion House, all those years ago. And yet she seemed unchanged in loveliness.  

"Chaplain," she offered, just as forthright as ever, holding out one white hand. "Or should I say Professor now?"

"Either will do," Henry managed, taking her hand and shaking it, weaker than he wished to. It still beggared belief - her, here?

"I think my presence is a shock," she said, smiling politely. "Perhaps Doctor Foster neglected to mention?" She looked at Jed, who looked suspiciously pleased with himself and gave a kind of apologetic shrug.

"Miss Green is studying at the Hospital," Mary said, rising from her chair with the infant in her arms. "A somewhat unofficial course in nursing, but I expect they'll standardize it soon, when they see the benefit that can be had from such a study. They've kindly agreed to let her off the ward today so she can spend the time with us. And this," she said, turning so his head might face towards Henry, "Is Elias, who has been waiting so patiently to see you."

"Hello there," Henry said, glad of the distraction. "My apologies for keeping you up so late." He offered a finger, gently stroking the infant's cheek, and Elias stared at him in goggle-eyed wonderment, too tired or amazed to do anything else but blink and then, eyes fluttering closed, give one titanic yawn and turn his face away back to his mother’s breast.

"I think we may put him to bed before we go for the service," Mary said judiciously, more to Jed than anyone else. "Sarah's about, if he should wake up. But he'll sleep, I think; he's had a long afternoon flirting with Emma."

The use of the word 'flirting' sent a frisson through the room, though whether or not it was intentional none could tell. Mary ascended the stairs to put the child to bed while the other three waited below in the hall, putting on hats and gloves to venture out into the night to church.

“Was it a long trip? From Williamstown?” Emma asked, the soul of politeness. 

“Longer than it should have been,” he admitted, shrugging back into his winter clothes suddenly very self-conscious about the developing rip in one of his gloves. “May I?” He’d been  watching, transfixed, as she wrapped a muffler around her neck, at the same time reaching for her coat. She looked a little startled by the offer, but acquiesced, letting him hold the garment as she slipped her arms inside and tied her bonnet on. 

Mary came back downstairs with quiet feet, letting her husband help her into her coat and shawl while Emma held her prayerbook. “He’s sleeping,” she said, to no one in particular. “He’ll be good for Sarah.”

The snow muffled the sounds of the city as they walked to church, streetlamps throwing a golden haze into the softness of the night. It was the kind of evening Henry had always pictured when the time for singing hymns like ‘Silent Night’ approached, though every good theologian could tell you Christ hadn’t been born in wintertime, nor was it likely there was a halo of snow around the manger where he’d lain. A patch of ice surprised Emma, and she gave a yelp, catching at his arm to keep from falling. “I think you’d better keep that,” he said, and her hands stayed where they were, wrapped around his coatsleeve, drawing the two of them closer together than he had  been to a woman for quite some time. Did he presume too much? Two years was long enough. 

But she did not move her hands, nor was her closeness a burden to him, and in the evening chill, he felt himself grow warm again.

* * *

 

 

Ten steps behind and taking the road carefully, Mary watched the pair with bird-bright eyes and glanced pointedly at her husband. “You look like a cat who’s just gotten into the cream, dear,” she observed with a smile. “I suppose you think yourself quite clever, surprising Henry like that.”

“What, me?” Jed Foster put a face of pure innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His wife rolled her eyes. “Inviting Henry for Christmas and conveniently forgetting to tell him that Emma would be here.”

“I am entirely innocent of whatever you’re suggesting,” Doctor Foster repeated with a lofty air, though no amount of artifice could hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Mary nodded sagely, knowing full well what her husband was up to. 

“Be gentle, Jed. That’s all I ask. They’re grown people who ought to know their own minds before someone else makes them up for them.”

They said nothing more on the subject for the rest of their walk, filing quietly into church and carefully taking their candles, four more lonely shepherds come to sing, and watch, and wait for news of the Christ-child. But Mary couldn’t deny that it made her own heart a little warmer to watch her two houseguests bend their heads over the hymnal, and smile in surprise at their shared harmony,  basking in the glow of the candles, the whole world around them warm with promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt from montanabohemian and ferecita-s asking for some Emmry. 
> 
> Elias Foster, age approximately two months in this story, is from an old ask meme from, gosh, two years ago, maybe? I liked him too much not to use him, so he's a tiny, babbling ball of cute here, as you sometimes need.
> 
> I've been wanting to write this 'they met again after the war, and they were older, and it was sweeter' scenario for a while - if I had the time or the inclination, I think it'd be fun to write something between a Henry who'd gone on to teaching, and an Emma who...was maybe married to Frank for a little while, or at least engaged, and learned something about herself, and came up north to keep learning.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [all is bright](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17634932) by [middlemarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch)




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